


Running Home To You

by Assassins_Wolves



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Minho, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Beta Newt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega Thomas, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assassins_Wolves/pseuds/Assassins_Wolves
Summary: Minho and Newt find Thomas collapsed on the edge of their territory on the brink of death, escaped from Wicked's werewolf pack. Instantly drawn to the battered Omega, they nurse him back to health. Minho and Newt think Thomas might be the one to complete their triad. Unfortunately, Gally, the leader of the Wicked Clan won't let Thomas go so easily.





	1. Chapter 1

Minho POV

 

It took a lot of convincing to get Newt to come with him on his daily run around the territory, but in the end he managed it. There's not a whole lot Newt wouldn't do for Minho.

“Bloody freezing,” Newt grouses as they walk through the trees together. The blond haired Beta tucks his scarf closer around his neck, shoulders hunched against the cold. Minho smiles affectionately at his mate. Newt hates the cold, but wanted to spend time with him anyways.

“You’d be warmer if we jogged,” Minho points out teasingly. Newt rolls his eyes at him. Minho loves to run, but Newt doesn't like to unless he absolutely has to. The cold irritates Newt’s old leg injury and they both know it. Even now he’s limping heavily, one footprint deeper in the snow than the other.

“Don’t want to show up the lead runner,” Newt sniffs pretentiously before sneaking a grin at Minho. They both laugh, the cold hurting Minho’s cheeks. He sneaks a glance at Newt and admires the snowflakes caught in his lashes. Minho ducks under a branch covered in ice and straightens.

A new scent catches his attention, one much different than the ice and snow around him. It’s an Omega, and not one from the pack. Tasting the air, Minho turns around in a circle, trying to locate where the scent is coming from.

“Minho?” Newt questions. As an Alpha, Minho’s sense of smell is stronger. 

“It’s an Omega,” Minho replies distractedly, following the scent down a ditch towards the river that marks the edge of their territory. Newt follows behind him, cursing as he crashes through the brush and he slides down the slope.

Normally Minho would be at Newt’s side, ready to help if he needs it, but the Omega scent is sending his Alpha instincts into overdrive. He glances back to see Newt following closely on his heels before refocusing on the scent. He needs to find the Omega and help it. As he gets closer to the icy river bank, he smells the copper tang of fresh blood.

“Minho,” Newt says worriedly. He smells it too.

Together they push through the dense underbrush. Newt’s ankle gives out for a second on the icy ground and Minho catches him and sets him back on his feet. Finally, they tear out of the underbrush to stand on the muddy bank. Minho pulls up short and Newt does the same beside him.

There’s an Omega slumped in the icy river. His upper body is resting on the bank, but his legs are still submersed in the shallows, like he was trying to pull himself out of the water but collapsed. He’s wearing a thin hoodie that’s sticking to his wet skin, revealing the outline of his ribs. He’s skinny, too skinny to be healthy. His sides rise and fall, but it’s faltering and uneven.

His long brown hair is plastered to his forehead. But what catches Minho’s attention is the gash across his side and the blood leaking from it. The pool beneath him has turned red from blood. There's just so much blood. Too much from one person, even a werewolf.

As both Newt and Minho take a step forward, the Omega’s head snaps up and he looks at them. His eyes are huge, and one of them has a dark purple ring around it. Minho can practically smell the fear radiating off of him. The last thing he needs is a strange Alpha approaching him.

Minho immediately freezes, but Newt continues slowly walking towards him. The Omega pulls himself completely out of the water, his arms and legs shaking, whether from cold or exertion Minho couldn’t tell. His legs trail behind him limply, blood spreading across one of them.

Newt crouches down beside the Omega. “Hey love,” he says softly. “It’s all right, I promise. We’re not going to hurt you.”

The Omega surprises them both by pulling himself towards Newt. Reaching out with both hands, the Omega grabs Newt’s good leg. Newt yelps as he’s pulled off his feet. The Omega is stronger than he looks.

Minho takes a step forward immediately, concerned for Newt. Omega’s can be dangerous, especially when they’re scared and injured. Newt’s got such a big heart, Minho doesn’t want to see him get hurt because of it

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the Omega rambles incoherently, crawling forward to bury his face against Newt’s thigh.

He seems to be trying to get as close to the Beta as possible. Newt grabs him under the shoulders to pull him closer. The Omega yelps in pain as Newt physically picks him up and pulls him up onto his chest. The second he gets close enough he latches onto Newt’s coat with both hands.

“Sorry,” he rasps one last time before his eyes drift closed and he passes out. His head falls forward against Newt’s shoulder. Newt looks up at Minho, confusion written all over his face, but he cradles the Omega against his chest all the same. Minho can almost feel the protectiveness surging through the bond between them.

As Minho opens his mouth, the brush on the other side of the river crashes and three Alpha’s burst onto the riverbank. Minho’s head snaps towards the intruders.

He immediately recognizes the Alpha in front is Gally, leader of the Wicked Pack. Wicked and their own pack of the Gladers have been rivals for centuries. This river marks the boundary between their territories.

Everything comes together quickly. This Omega must have been fleeing from Wicked and ran straight into their arms. But Gally’s not going to see it like that. Minho can tell by the way he’s glaring at Newt he thinks they stole the Omega. 

Minho moves to stand in front of Newt and the Omega in a heartbeat, peeling his lips back in a snarl. He throws out his chest and holds up his hands in a defensive stance. If they lay a hand on Newt, he’ll kill them all. Screw the truce.

“That Omega belongs to Wicked!” Gally snarls, pointing angrily at him. “Hand him over or I’ll break your neck.”

Newt growls viciously and pulls the Omega closer. The idiot has already gone and gotten attached. But despite himself, Minho already feels the desperate need to protect the Omega too. Gally can take him over his dead body.

“I don’t think so,” Minho replies firmly. “He’s in Glader territory.”

Alby's going to be pissed when he hears about this, that Minho has claimed the Omega as their's without his permission. But Minho would rather ask for forgiveness than permission. By the time he gets permission, if in fact he does, it will already be too late for the Omega.

“How do I know you didn’t kidnap him?” Gally demands.

“Look at the footprints in the mud,” Minho points out evenly. The Alphas glance down and then look back up at Minho. “There’s only one set of tracks. He crossed alone, and now he's ours.”

“I can cross that river too,” Gally growls, pacing up and down angrily but never taking his eyes off of us. “You can’t take all three of us.”

He’s not wrong. Minho could take Gally and maybe one of the other Alpha’s after that, but that still leaves one for Newt. Newt can fend for himself, he could take down a fully grown Alpha even on a bad day. 

But it’s not just about them anymore. They have to consider the Omega. They can’t fight off the attackers and protect him. It would be too easy for the third Alpha to slip away from the fight and hurt him. And Newt can’t outrun them carrying the Omega, not with his leg.

“You want to break the truce between the Packs by crossing that river? You must be dumber than I thought. Don’t ever threaten me again Gally. It won’t go well for you,” Minho snarls. His eyes have turned red and his teeth lengthen into fangs. 

Gally takes a step back, knowing that he’s been beat. But the way he eyes the Omega tells Minho that it isn’t over.

“Minho,” Newt reminds him. At the sound of his mate’s voice, Minho turns around to see Newt holding the Omega bridal style in his arms. “He’s bleeding out, we have to go,” Newt demands. They have to go, should have gone already. 

“Let’s get him to Clint and Jeff,” Minho says, urgency fueling him as leans down next to Newt. Mindful of his injuries, Minho takes the Omega in his arms. He's tall and lanky, but lighter than Minho was expecting. Newt scrambles to his feet beside him and together they start to run back the way they came. They leave Gally and his alphas glaring at their retreating back.


	2. Chapter 2

Newt POV

Newt sighs heavily and picks at the callouses on his palm. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, one foot bouncing with jitters. Next to him Minho is the picture of stoicism. He's leaned back against the wall, head tilted back and arms crossed. If it wasn't for the way Minho's chewing on the inside of his cheek, Newt might think he was unconcerned.

They had gotten back to the homestead in surprisingly good time. Minho had a harder time of it, carrying the dead weight of the omega in his arms. If Minho hadn't been weighted down there's no way Newt would have kept pace with him.

They had burst through the door of the homestead together. Chuck shot up from the couch at their arrival and Winston tried to question them but Newt and Minho had brushed them off, heading straight for the basement, where the med room was. Clint and Jeff were the medics of the pack. They normally spent most of their time in the basement, stitching up pack members and stacking supplies. 

Clint was folding bandages when they barged in the door. Clint flailed at the sudden entrance, knocking over his neatly folded stack. Minho carefully laid the omega down on the table in the middle of the room.

"We found him. . . shuck it," Newt said between breaths, still panting from the frantic run. "We found him. . . at the border. Gally had him. . . he got away."

Clint sprang into action, snatching an absorbent bandage and pressing it again the omega's middle. 

"Go get Jeff, I need him," Clint had demanded. Jeff normally handled the more complicated cases. The fact that Clint needed him now was not comforting in the least.

Newt squeezed Minho's hand tightly and then turned and ran to fetch the second medic, leaving Minho to keep watch at the omega's side.

Newt ran into Jeff at the top of the basement stairs, he had probably already heard about their dramatic entrance. Newt had physically dragged Jeff down the stairs, explaining between breaths as he rushed down the hall. When they got to the med room, Clint had pulled Jeff inside and kicked Minho out. The door slammed shut in their faces, locking them out. That was exactly twenty seven minutes ago. 

Minho and Newt were currently sitting together outside the med room in some cheap plastic chairs lining the wall. With nothing else to do and no other distraction, scenarios of the omega hurt and dying began to flit through Newt's head. His mind seems intent on bringing up the worst possible scenarios. What if he bled out on the table? What if his wound was already infected? What if it was too late? And on and on the worries go.

The door opens, startling them both, and Clint walks out. The slightly chubby boy wipes his hands on his blue jeans, smearing blood onto them.

"He's breathing okay, normal heartbeat," Clint assures them awkwardly, standing aside to let them in. 

Newt and Minho get to their feet at the same moment, moving towards the doorway where Jeff is waiting for them.

"He's okay?" Minho moves into the doorway, forcing Jeff to step back.

"I guess you could say that," Jeff says.

Newt pushes his way into the room as well and gets a look at the omega. The first thing Newt notices is all the tubes connected to him. There's an I.V. drip connected to a needle sticking out of the back of his slack hand. In the corner of his elbow on his other arm is more tubing, this one looks like a blood transfusion.

The omega himself is wearing his jeans, but his torso is bared. His collarbones and ribs stick out fairly prominently. There's a deep, nasty gash from the bottom of his ribs across his stomach all the way to his hipbone. It's been crudely stitched closed with black thread. There's a dark handprint around his neck and shadows of bruises across his sides. If anything, the omega looks worse than when they found him.

"What's the diagnosis, Jeff?" Newt asks evenly, forcing himself to try and maintain his composure.

Jeff grimaces and darts a glance at Minho. “We were able to stitch together his side. We wrapped up his calf, but that bite is deep. Most of his body is bruised, and several ribs are broken. There's signs of repeated beatings. Maybe torture. He’s lost a lot of blood, but he'll make a recovery.”

Minho turns and punches the wall, roaring in rage. Jeff flinches, but Newt doesn’t bat an eye. He was half expecting the show of rage, and Minho doesn’t scare him. Minho storms out of the room.

Newt sighs shakily and looks down at the still form of the Omega. His skin is white and deathly pale. If it wasn’t for the slow rise of his chest, Newt would almost assume he looks dead. He reaches out and tenderly brushes some of his hair from his forehead.

He looks so vulnerable right now. Newt’s heart hurts for the small Omega. He can only imagine what Gally put him through. At the same time, he also marvels at his strength. Wicked’s territory is huge, and their homestead is at least 10 miles away from the river. If this Omega escaped from there, that means he ran all that way while bleeding out. 

“Take good care of him. I’ll be right back,” Newt says. Jeff nods and Newt ducks out to go find his Alpha.

Minho is in the hall right outside of the room, pacing furiously. He stops as Newt walks out and opens his arms. 

Newt walks into them and Minho embraces him tightly. Minho smells like guilt and worry, the acrid stench thick and strong on his skin. Minho hides his nose in Newt’s shoulder and breaths in his scent. He’s tense in his arms. Newt kisses his head, trying to reassure him. 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Newt tells him. Minho hangs his head.

“I can’t protect him,” he says frustrated. “I couldn’t even attack Gally.” 

Newt quickly recognizes that the Alpha is blaming himself for the condition of the Omega. He smiles sadly. Minho’s got a good heart. He’s one of the few good Alphas who really wants to protect Omegas, instead of claiming them like property. Right now, Newt realizes Minho is feeling helpless and that only makes him more guilty and worried.

“Hey,” Newt says sharply, causing Minho to look up at him. “You saved his life. Gally would have him right now if you weren’t there. He would have gone across the river despite the truce. You know he would've." Newt tightens his hands on Minho's shoulders. "You saved him," he says slowly, emphasizing the truthfulness behind his statement.

Minho huffs out a breath of air and hangs his head. 

"I know," Minho sighs.

"Go on then, get cleaned up. I'll keep an eye on him," Newt promises. 

If the Omega smelled Minho's acrid emotions right now it could send him into a panic. Minho nods and wearily pulls away, turning to go shower.

Newt watches him trudge down the hall before returning back to the omega's room. It's been dimmed inside, probably for the omega's benefit. Jeff is standing at one of the cabinets, sorting through bottles. He looks up when Newt enters and nods. Newt drops heavily into the chair next to the bed. Jeff quietly exits the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Newt sighs and settles more comfortably in his chair. He keeps a watchful eye on the omega, content for the moment just to watch his chest rise and fall in slow, regular breaths. Clint didn't lie about that. Newt's just starting to nod off, his chin propped up with his fist, when the omega sucks in a huge breath of air and opens his eyes.

Newt springs out of his chair and crouches next to the omega's bed. The omega struggles and tries to sit up. Newt splays his hand across his chest presses him against the bed, careful only to press where he's not bruised too badly.

"Minho!" Newt shouts, knowing that the Alpha will hear his voice, even from the opposite side of the house. 

The omega gasps in pain and then snarls weakly at Newt, trying to get away. Shuck, Newt thinks in panic. This wasn't supposed to happen like this. Minho was going to get back and deal with this. He's always so much better at this than Newt is.

"Easy love," Newt soothes. "I'm not gonna hurt ya. I pulled ya out of the river, remember that?"

The omega squints and focuses on Newt's face for the first time. Recognition sparks in his eyes and he relaxes a little, sagging back against the bed. He seems exhausted, like that tiny outburst used up all his energy.

"There ya go," Newt says, his voice shrill with worry. "Don't want you to rip your stitches." 

There's a second of awkward silence where neither of them speak. The omega seems content just to watch him for the time being. He doesn't ask Newt who he is, or where he took him. He spoke to them earlier. Surely that's not the problem is it?

"Can you tell me your name?" Newt asks encouragingly.

"Thomas," the omega rasps weakly, letting his eyes close. "My name's Thomas."


	3. Chapter 3

Thomas POV

"How are ya feeling, Tom-" the Beta's question is cut off as the door bursts open. 

Thomas jerks upward into a sitting position as an Alpha comes flying in and scrambles backward until his back hits the wall. For a split second he can feel his eyes flash yellow-gold. His fangs push against his gums and his claws prick into his palms. And then he catches the familiar scent of the Alpha and his body relaxes of its own accord. This is the Alpha who protected him on the bank, the one who's scent is all over the Beta. They must be mated, it would make sense why their scent is on each other.

The Alpha skids to a stop in the doorway. Thomas takes in his Asian appearance and muscled body. He's got strong arms and short, black hair that's dripping water. The Alpha looks a little older than Thomas, and a lot stronger. There's no doubt in Thomas's mind that this Alpha could overpower him if he wanted. Of course right now, pretty much anyone could overpower Thomas.

"Did ya forget how to knock you shank?" the Beta scolds harshly. He barely flinched at the intrusive entrance, just crossed his arms. 

Thomas's stomach twists uncomfortable. The nice Beta is yelling at his Alpha for Thomas, he's going to get in trouble. He's going to get hurt and it will be Thomas's fault. The Alpha frowns, but he seems more confused than angry. His scent doesn't have the burnt smell of anger to it, but something tangier, more like. . . worry.

"You yelled," the Alpha protests defensively. 

But even as he says it, his expression smoothes out as he surveys the room. Thomas swallows roughly. If he yelled at Gally like, whenever he defied him at all, the result was. . . painful to say the least. 

The Beta hovers over him, tall and lean with short blond hair. He smiles ruefully at Thomas as Thomas swings his legs over the side of the bed. The sudden change in motion sends black spots in his vision and makes him dizzy.

“Alright there?” the Beta asks. His accent is strange, Thomas can’t place it.

“M’fine,” Thomas chokes out. 

He wraps his bloodless knuckles tightly around the edge of the bed, waiting for his vision to clear. Truthfully his side is throbbing, he probably pulled a stitch or two earlier. That's not even considering the way his entire body aches, like a raw and exposed wound.

“You don’t bloody well look like it,” the Beta replies, quirking one eyebrow.

“And for good reason. You almost died,” the Alpha says from where he’s leaning against he wall behind Newt. 

Thomas gives the Alpha a surprised glance, he moved so quietly that Thomas had lost track of where he was in the room. Thomas is used to strong Alphas, brawny ones who live to fight. This Alpha is strong, that's obvious by his arms, but he's fast and quiet too. Thomas has always found comfort in knowing that few werewolves could catch him. But this Alpha, Thomas thinks he might be just as fast. 

As Thomas watches the Alpha, he notices the bruised knuckles of right hand. Suddenly Thomas remembers how he left things on the bank. He literally threw himself at a pair of mates and expected them to fight Wicked for him. The Beta might have gotten away without punishment, but he's an Omega, one outside of the pack at that.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas apologizes, ducking his head. “For running to your Beta and forcing you to fight for me, Alpha." Thomas addresses the Alpha's general direction without making eye contact. "I had no right to expect you to protect me. I was hurt and — I just couldn’t keep running.”

"There's no need for titles." The Alpha squirms uncomfortably. "I'm Minho, and that's Newt. He belongs to himself, as I'm sure he'll let you know."

"I'm Thomas," Thomas offers, unsure what to say.

"Well at least you didn't bloody roll over and die, Tommy," Newt responds, filling the empty silence. "You must have run ten miles, bleeding the whole way, Alpha's on your tail. It's shucking impressive you got across the border at all."

Thomas can't help grinning at the Beta-Newt's words. Newt grins back, his mischievous eyes dancing from underneath his blond fringe. Thomas finds his scrappy attitude contagious. 

"Honestly I didn't do much." Minho moves closer to the bed, until he's standing close enough to touch Thomas. He doesn't though, reaching up to rub the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Gally backed down without a fight and we brought you back." His eyes dance over the thick stitches across Thomas's stomach before he meets his eye earnestly. "I wish I could have done more."

Thomas swallows, trying to hide his shock. An Alpha who lets his Beta scold him and looks an Omega in the eye? What kind of Alpha is this guy anyway? From Thomas's limited experience, Alphas simply don't act like that. Minho meets Newts eyes uncertainly before he pushes onward hurriedly.

"I've talked to Alby, he's our Alpha, the pack leader," Minho explains. "He wants to meet you, but he said that if we'll take responsibility for you you can stay."

"You don't have to," Newt interrupts, giving Minho a significant look. Clearly this isn't something they've discussed with each other. 

"No, of course not," Minho nods and takes a step back, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "And you don't have to join our pack if you don't want to. We can get you back home, once you heal up a bit. Is there anyone we need to call for you?"

"I don't know," Thomas admits roughly. 

The weight of exhaustion hits heavily on him and he slumps back against the wall. 

"I don't know, I don't remember. Gally, Wicked," Thomas waves his hand, "they took away my memories. I woke up in a metal box and couldn't remember a thing. The first person I saw was Gally. He said it worked, said I didn't need to know anyone besides him. Some things came back, most things. My name, my age, what kinds of food I like, what things are. I just can't remember my past. My memories, anyone I ever knew before Wicked, my parents. It's all gone. It's like I know they must have been there, but now they're gone."

Newt and Minho exchange a horrified look. 

"Tommy," Newt asks. "Can you remember if you were a werewolf before Wicked? Did Gally turn you?" 

"I don't know. I woke up with a bite on my shoulder, but I can't remember if he turned me. Everything seemed new to me."

"Last question, I promise. How long were you with Wicked?" Minho asks.

"About a month, I think. Only one full moon, they put me back in the box for it."

Thomas still remembers that night vividly. He screamed and howled and begged for help and no one came. Thomas scratched at the metal until his claws broke. He bit and kicked and fought until he beat himself up bloody. The whole time the box felt like it was closing in on him, getting smaller and smaller until it was going to crush him. Thomas hyperventilated all night, but couldn't pass out. Apparently werewolves lungs don't work like that.

Minho kneels at the edge of the bed and takes Thomas's hand that doesn't have an IV in it in his, snapping him back into reality. Minho squeezes his hand gently."Thomas, I promise you will never have to go back there. We won't force you to, but you'd be safe if you wanted to stay here with us."

Newt puts his hand on Minho's shoulder and gives Thomas a hopeful look. They both seem sincere to Thomas, he can't smell any emotions that would suggest a different intent. Thomas likes Newt, he's kind and not afraid to speak his mind. If he's with Minho, than that must mean Minho is a good guy, even if he is an Alpha.

"Okay," Thomas agrees. "I'll stay."


End file.
